Suffer the Children
by PsychoChick
Summary: Someone Omi knows is a target.....


Suffer the Children   
Author: PsychoChick  
Type: One shot, drama   
Teaser: Someone Omi knows is a Target....   
Rating: PG   
Warnings: Child abuse   
Keywords: Omi   
Notes: I wrote this one in twenty minutes, so if anything seems funny, blame it on that.   
  
  
Omi squashed his fear down when Yoji parked his car on the corner, and glanced over at his teammate, who had a vaguely worried look on his face.   
"You sure you're up to this?" the taller blond asked.   
Omi pasted a smile on his face, but he knew it wasn't all that real or cheerful.   
"I'll be fine," he said. "It's a simple mission. Go in, kill, get out."   
Yoji met his eyes then, and he flinched.   
"If you're not out in thirty minutes, I'm coming to get you."   
Omi nodded. "It won't take that long, but thanks."   
He exited the car and closed the door in one smooth movement, before he let himself beg Yoji to take over the assignment. Omi was the only one who could do the assignment; was the only one who could get *in* to do the assignment.   
With a deep breath, Omi walked calmly to the front door of the non-descript house, on the nondescript street, pausing just before he knocked on the door.   
Was he *really* sure he could do this? The man he had been sent to kill was a man he'd looked up to for four years of his life.   
A man he'd respected, liked, even had fun with.   
A man who abused children. Children young and Omi's age.   
With another deep breath, Omi knocked on the door.   
There was a pause, and just as Omi was biting his lip to force himself to knock again, the door opened.   
"Omi-kun!" the man exclaimed. "What are you doing here, so late?   
"Can I come in, kouchou-sensei?" Omi asked.   
  
Yoji was nervous. He'd just sent a lamb in to the lion. Unfortunately, this lion preyed on lambs just like Omi every day. Luckily, the lamb was prepared.   
Lighting a cigarette, he cursed his shaking hand. The boy would be fine. He had seen the evidence, same as everybody else. There should be-- *would* be, no hesitation.   
He checked his watch again. Half a minute since the last time he'd checked. It was going to be a long thirty minutes.   
  
"I need to talk."   
"Of course, Omi! Come in. I was just about to start my nightly homework, but I guess that will have to wait."   
Omi's eyes widened. "I could come back, if you want me to," he offered, silently cursing himself.   
"No, no, that's all right. Please, have a seat."   
Omi sat on the edge of the offered couch.   
"What was it you needed to talk to me about?" Omi's principal asked.   
He had seen the pictures. Had watched as the pictures progressed from one student to another, most of whom Omi knew and was friendly with. Watched as they were undressed or molested through the cloth.   
His mind had seen it, and had been angry, and yet, his heart, deep inside, had objected strongly. This man was respected. He wasn't feared at all. There was nothing slimy or uncaring or mean about him. One's mind didn't head towards the disgusting when one thought of Moiata Kenji.   
Until his hand came to rest briefly on Omi's shoulder. Briefly because it was sliding up and down his arm.   
"Shall we talk?"   
Omi was in shock. This man was almost revered, in the highest place of power, next to the super intendent. And here he was, coming on to a student.   
No, Omi thought drastically. He's just being friendly.   
You saw the pictures! something else argued.   
"Yes."   
Being bigger than Omi, the man nearly crushed him when he pushed him onto the couch. Omi yelped and brought a hand up. A trembling finger pulled the trigger of the small crossbow, and the bolt went into the man's chest. Not into his heart, but a lung.   
"What did you do?" Moiata demanded, staring at the small bolt.   
"You-- you deserved it!" Omi exclaimed, just as a knock was heard at the front door.   
Omi's heart leapt into his throat.   
"You hurt children! You abused them, and abused your position! I respected you!"   
The front door was kicked down suddenly and Yoji ran in, as Omi let the tears that had been pooling in his eyes fall.   
"What happened?" Yoji demanded. He didn't mean about the small crossbow bolt sticking out of the man's chest, he meant Omi. He was always looking out for Omi.   
"He-- He--" Omi stuttered.   
He was dead. They could see it now, as his face bloated slightly from the fast acting poison in his blood.   
Yoji sidestepped the body, to embrace the young boy.   
"Let's go," he whispered after a moment of silence. "You didn't touch anything, did you?"   
Omi shook his head, as he slowly reached out to rip the bolt from its resting place. He wiped it on the dead man's shirt, before placing it next to it's brothers.   
Yoji casually lit a match-book, dropping some matched on the body, and some matches on the couch.   
Together, they walked from the non-descript house, on the non-descript street, back to their dark colored car, into the night.   
  



End file.
